


One shot.

by RavenGryphon



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: But whatever, Elevenry, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Short One Shot, Sweet bois are sweet, This doesn't have much to do with BatIM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGryphon/pseuds/RavenGryphon
Summary: Agent Eleven regrets his life choices. He almost pays the ultimate price.Fluffy Henry x Eleven nonsense.TheSavvyGeekinGlasses gave the prompt. I wrote the thing. Yay!





	One shot.

Agent Eleven is in pain. Feeling weak, he fumbles with fingers that are rapidly becoming numb to get his phone. As he pushes the speed dial button, leaving smears of red behind on the screen, he's also careful to push the record button. It's very important that this call be recorded. His phone will be recovered and returned to Henry, who will then have this important call forever.

"Eleven!" Henry's happy voice answers the phone. "I'm so happy to hear from you! I was getting worried."

Eleven swallows, trying to make sure his voice will come across clear and calm. "Hello, Henry. How are you holding up?"

"Everything is fine here. Except that I miss you. Are you alright? You sound strange."

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. I wanted to call to hear your voice. To tell you I miss you, and I love you."

"Aw. El. I love you, too. I'm sorry you've been away for so long. Are you coming home soon?"

Eleven swallows again. He can't feel anything below his waist now. He looks down at his body, sprawled across the floor in a pool of red. He's cold, and quickly getting colder. He feels dizzy, too, from blood loss. He quickly refocuses, getting his mind back to the task on hand.   
"Yes, Henry. I'm going home now." He has to pause and check his voice to make sure he doesn't choke up. "I just wish I could hold you right now. I love you so much."

Henry chuckles a bit. "I adore how clingy you get when you're out on the field. Although I selfishly look forward to when you finally take that promotion and are safely behind a desk."

Yes... Henry has been gently pushing Eleven to retire from the field. Looking at his chest, soaked in blood from the bullet wound as his lungs struggle to draw in another breath, he wishes he had listened to his husband.   
"I think you're right, Henry." Even though his best efforts, his voice is starting to fade, go quiet. "I think I should retire..." 

"El?" Henry's voice is heavy with concern. He knows his man too well. No matter how hard Eleven tries to keep his voice strong and steady, Henry can hear the weakness there. He's running out of time. Eleven struggles to remember all the things he wanted to tell Henry, but his mind is thick and sluggish. 

"I, uh..." Eleven struggles. He's so damn cold. His only wish is that Henry is here, by his side, cradling his head as he dies. But, of course, he can't say that. There's no point in upsetting Henry. Not just yet. "I was thinking about our last night together. In our bed... I love the way you held me all night..."

"Eleven... What's wrong, baby? You can tell me..." 

"I'm fine, Henry. Everything is ok, now. I love you. I'm going to get some sleep, ok?"

"Ok, El, if you say so. I love you, too. Come home safe. I miss you."

"I miss you, too. I love you, babe." Eleven carefully hangs up the phone and, using his last bit of strength, carefully ends the recording. His phone slips from his bloodless fingers, but he doesn't care anymore. Now Henry will have a record of Eleven's love for him. It seems like a poor parting gift. He should have been more careful. He should have retired. He shouldn't have left his Henry behind. He should have come home to his warm, loving arms, and have been safe...  
It's a little late for that, now. Eleven's vision is fading. He can no longer see anything but vague shapes and lights. He gives one last sigh, and he dies. 

Henry lies in bed, tears in his eyes and a small smile on his face. He turns off his phone after listening to the recording yet again. He sets it on his nightstand and shuts off his lamp. It's such a bittersweet thing to listen to, yet he can't stop playing it. Not many people get the knowledge that their true love is thinking of them in their last moments. 

Henry snuggles down into bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping man in his arms. Henry brushes the short, light blond hair back from his husband's face, feeling the same love for him that he had when they first started dating. He's not quite the same man he used to be - dying takes a lot out of a person - but Henry doesn't mind. What matters is that Agent Eleven is tucked in his arms, breathing softly as he sleeps, safe. 

The medics were able to retrieve and revive Eleven, but just barely. He's weaker now, and looks like he's aged about a decade since his death. These days, the once powerful Eleven spends much of his time resting, and seems to have trouble keeping warm. He's warm now, though, pressed tightly to Henry, his fingers curled into his husband's pajamas as he sleeps. Henry makes sure the blankets are pulled all the way up to Eleven's ear. 

Eventually, the former field agent plans on taking that desk job. For now, though, his only job is to get better. Be alive, be safe, and get better. Henry curls protectively around him. After all the years they've spent together, it's finally Henry's turn to protect his man. And he takes his job very seriously.

**Author's Note:**

> One shot. Get it? Cause it's a one shot. And 11 got shot. I'm not sorry.


End file.
